Breaking the Ice
by TillThatTime
Summary: Like a giant among men, she walked the halls of our school. It was as if she was a porcelain doll in a sea of broken glass, cold, hard and utterly magnificent. TroyPay


**Disclaimer: **Yup, you guessed, I don't own anything…..aww, how incredibly sad.

**A/N: **Ok this is part of the weekly High School Musical writing contest. I am a contestant and I chose prompt number 3. Which was a Troy centric story based on his view of Sharpay Evans. So here it is, waiting to be judge and here for your entertainment. I have never written a Troypay so I thought I'd try something new. I've only ever written Tryan and Rypay, so we'll see how this works out. Cheers and Much Love!

TillThatTime

**Warnings: **Some cursing.

**Breaking the Ice**

I was never one to believe in something that I could not understand. As a child the world of make believe was a place that was not often visited by me. I could feel a basketball with my fingers. I could hear my voice sink in through my ears, and I could taste the sweat of my endurance and the smell of the food that I ate. These were simple to understand. These things were _real_.

Then there was _her_.

Like a giant among men, she walked the halls of our school. Hair set perfectly against her pale skin and clothes unwrinkled and shining in the florescent, cheap light. It was as if she was a porcelain doll in a sea of broken glass; cold, hard and utterly magnificent.

She truly was the ice queen the she was referred to as in hushed undertones in the halls and classes.

People both feared and admired her, but I just wanted so much more. I wished to touch skin that I feared would be cold against my fingertips. I craved to look into ice blue eyes that I knew would only glare back in response. I wanted her.

The harsh words that were said about her day in and day out were not lost on me. Rumors that she was a witch. Jokes that she was the Anti-Christ bidding her time. I heard them all and I know that she heard them as well.

I always found it amazing that she never seemed to let any of this bring her down. Her sneer remained permanently plastered on those pink lips and her eyes stayed cold. My admiration truly had no bounds when it came to the cold-hearted bitch. I viewed her as a woman of true elegance and beauty with a fire burning under all that ice.

People were harsh to her and she was harsh right back. Demanding respect when she really had very little at all. I always wondered what could make a person like that. What could make a person so guarded and strong? Did her daddy shove her up against those expensive walls that held up the foundation of her mansion of a house? Did mommy choose to ignore her cries as she hid underneath silk sheets and tear-soaked pillows? Or was someone just born cold?

I wanted to know.

I _needed_ to know.

Because while the rest of the world ran in fear of Sharpay Evans, I wished for a relief to an obsession that could only be cured by the source.

When I was younger she used to show an interest in me, but at the time a girl with darker hair and a meek personality was clouding my thoughts. Gabriella Montez had been the first girl I had ever loved but as time wore on, connections faded, black was replaced with blonde and a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach was nothing to the burning sensation whenever she was around.

My love for her grew and her attraction for me was diminished in the ice of her bitter glare.

I could not get her out of my mind. My senses were on overdrive and for once my mind was agreeing with my body and heart. I memorized every detail of her. The smell of her perfume when she would flip her hair out in the seat in front of me; expensive, snooty and intoxicating. The feel of her skin as she would accidentally brush against me on her way to class; smooth and almost powdery against my own rough skin. The sound of her voice as she sang with her brother during one of many auditions; confident and light. The sight of her was damning and the taste of her was something that I could only dream about.

People had a set idea in their mind of what Sharpay Evans, Ice Queen, was like, but there was something more to her. There had to be something more, and I made it my duty to find out what. There had to be warmth in her cold and for once I was believing in something I couldn't even begin to comprehend. Sharpay Evans was a mystery to me, and God did I want to solve her.

"Get out of my way, Bolton." Her voice rang cold and harsh in my ears as she snarled out one of many phrases that she was prone to greeting me with. We had bumped into each other and in the close proximity I did not fail to notice the tears that stained her beautiful face. She pushed past me in a hurry, leaving me confused and wondering. What could possibly be wrong with her? My eyes caught on something white lying on the ground at my feet, and I bent to pick up the small piece of paper. I immediately recognized the neat writing that belonged to Sharpay and with some guilt I began to read the words that were scrawled across the crumpled paper

_I laugh because it's easier to ignore. I stand because I refuse to fall. I hate because it's better that way and I wear my pride like a flag of defeat. I am defeated but I can't bring myself to surrender. _

I did not understand the words, but they made sense nonetheless. They meant everything and nothing all at once and it was just another vague clue to the inside world of my fallen angel. I followed after her, deciding that it was finally time to break the ice.

"Sharpay." I called out, before pulling her into an empty classroom. She struggled against me, her breathing strained and her face showing cold fury.

"Get off me, Bolton!" She sneered, pushing me away.

"What's going on, Sharpay?" There was no reason in prancing around the subject.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was cold.

I held up the poem in my hand and her facial expression never faltered, but her eyes spoke volumes.

"Never pegged you as someone to snoop through peoples belongings, Bolton." Her tone remained steady.

"You dropped it."

"Then give it back." She reached for the paper but I stepped away, dodging her attempt.

"What's going on, Sharpay."

"It's just a poem…" She insisted.

"Tell me, Sharpay."

"Give it to me." Her voice began to shake and her lips were trembling.

"Sharpay-"

"Shut up, Troy." I could hear the desperation underneath her strong demeanor.

"Tell me-"

"I need it. Give it to me!" Tears began to fall down her pale cheeks and in all my life I never thought that I would witness the great Sharpay Evans crying.

"I just want to help."

"It's none of your business!" Then she began to hit me, desperate lashes at my chest and arms and her voice cracked under her cries and I could not stop myself as I pulled her against me. She clung on to me and I wondered whether she actually needed to hold me or if she just need something to hold up her weight.

"It's none of your business." She repeatedly softly against the crook of my neck and I held on tighter, afraid to let go.

"I know." I whispered against her hair and I breathed in the scent of her shampoo as she continued to tremble against me.

She did not tell me, nor did I ask for more explanation.

She cried and I held her.

She trembled and my heart broke.

And in one moment she told me more than words ever could.


End file.
